Exile
by ania1
Summary: This is Farfarello's very own little mental diary. Feel free to view the many bloodstained sins and confessions of our all time favourite Irish madman! *grin* Rated PG-13 because of the language!
1. Part I

  
**Exile  
**  
  
Part I  
  
***  
  
  
One...two...three...four...  
  
The slim pointer moves slowly over the clock's white dial.   
Each little secound is time. Each little secound makes the day pass little by little, and yet there is nothing I can do about it. I can't turn back the time. I can not make it stop.   
  
I fix my eye on the clock on the wall. The cell is empty, just like me. The only thing that is moving, and that will ever be moving, is time...  
  
But I don't know about the time. I'm stuck in a moment. But time must still go on, even though I won't. Time will always go on. Because I can not.   
I don't care what happens. I don't care about anything anymore.  
  
It all seems so meaningless...  
  
The door opens slowly. I don't look up. The clock is still ticking for me, I musn't move. I musn't give up. I can beat it, I can pass it.  
  
But no one can win against time.  
  
A tall man walks inside. Probably a guard. I don't mind him. Someone else is with him. A dark haired young man, dressed in a cream coloured suit.   
  
I don't mind him either. I don't mind their looks.  
  
They're talking about me, and the guard walks over to me and kneels infront of me.   
I continue staring at the clock.   
I hear his harsh voice talk to me. I do not answer.   
Now he's yelling.   
  
Slam!  
  
He hits me in the face. I don't move. I don't react. I don't feel it. He is not there. Only the darkness. Only time is here. He is not time. He has given up. He is old and ugly. He's disgusting me! Just like the tiny little insects that is crawling around me.   
  
They are nibbling on the fabric of my clothes. They are tickeling in my hair and in my veins. They are crawling all over my body.   
  
Itching.  
  
Tickeling.  
  
Nibbling...  
  
The may call me crazy, but I don't mind. They are the ones that are crazy. They will realize that there is no time for them. That there is no slavation and no fucking god to answer their sinful prayers. For they are all praying. They want to be free, like me. But they can never be free.  
  
Because time is still ticking...  
  
The suit dressed man raise a hand in a gesture to the guard to stop. Blood is trickeling down my chin. But it doesn't hurt, even though he hit me. I don't care, I don't mind.  
  
Suddenly I'm being pulled up to my feet. I don't look at either of them. I only stare straight ahead, into the wall infront of me. Into my goal of time that is always with me.   
  
Always reminding me that I am still alive in this shitty world.   
  
I close my eye and start counting the loud poundings inside of my head. It's echoing in my mind. I'm lost in my own little fucked up world, that's why they say I'm strange.   
  
One...two...three...four...  
  
Someone is pushing me forward. I walk slowly, not caring about anything of what they might do to me. Hit me, hurt me, leave me, kill me if you want.   
  
I don't mind.  
  
I don't care.  
  
My death would mean nothing to no one. Because no one cares about me. No one knows I am here. Because time does not exist in their thiny lives. Time is not important.   
  
Don't they understand, they can not escape it. One day I'll show them. There is no use even to try. Time is everlasting. I will not break the margin. I am no one. What can I do about it.   
  
Stupd fucked up people. They don't understand.  
  
It's almost sweet how naive they are. They're so innocent. So pure. And they think they will be saved. But they are so wrong. Poor, poor dumb little lambs. You'll be slashed, each little one of you.   
Don't you want to spend your next night at the senitary? Stupid fuckers. You'll never get your salvation. Your awaited saviour don't give a damn about you!   
  
Time is catching up on you all. And when it does, it doesn't matter how much you pray. Because he's not there, he has never been there. He has never been listening to your pathetic prayers.   
  
You can't escape. Time is coming for you in the end, time will get you like a knife in the back and then... Bang! You're dead.  
I'd be very glad to be there watching when you finally realize that you were all wrong. All this time, you were all wrong. So fucking wrong. But you never listened! You never listen to anyone!   
  
I feel the hot sun burn in my face as we leave the building. I open my eye again. It's so light, almost burning. I gasp blissfully. I've missed the light so much. I like the sun.   
  
I just stand there for a moment, enjoying the nice warmth and light. Then I notice the black limo that is waiting outside the asylum.   
I stare at it blankly.   
  
I sigh as they push me into the expensive smelling car. So they think they can controle me huh? Well, just wait and see. I'll watch you come around you little fuckers.   
  
Just like god, looking down on us and spitting on us like we are some fucking entertaining doll theater!   
  
The dark haired stranger sit down across to me. I don't mind him.   
The car pull away and we drive slowly through the busy streets of Dublin. I don't like being so spotted.   
  
I hate being around people.   
  
I hate big cities like Dublin. It gives me a headache. But I know I am going away from all that now. The man is all silent. He only speak to the driver when he gives him the adress and location.   
  
I look out of the window and sigh softly. I am going away. I know I'm going away.   
  
Finally. Far away from Dublin. Far away from Ireland.   
  
Away from my previous life and my memories.  
  
Away from everything and everyone.  
  
Away from the ticking clock.  
  
Away from myself...  
  
A weak smile curl up my pale lips as I think about it. And then a single sentence leaves my lips in a silent whisper. The first thing I've said in over two years.  
Goodbye Jei...  
  
  



	2. Part II

  
  
Part II  
  
***  
  
  
Dark...  
  
It's so dark. My life has always been dark. Dark as the night. I wish there was at least one little light in my life. But that light has been put out long ago. A slight hope that gave me nothing but pain, sorrow, hatred. Hatred towards him. The bastard in heaven.   
  
You were my everything. I thought you cared for me, I thought you did mind when I was sad and lonely. I thought you was with me.   
But now I realise, all my prayers has been unheared. I realise that you never cared for me. You will never save me, and no one else either for that matter.   
  
I still hear it ticking. I feel the insects creep over my shoulder. I feel his eyes burn in my back. He's watching me.   
  
The American, Crawford.  
  
I've spent one day of my new life. My new life as an assassin. I have now been here for exact twentytwo hours and thirtyfive minutes. I keep on counting it, the ticking time.   
  
I don't like him. I didn't like him the first moment I saw him.   
  
The quiet American.   
  
I don't like him because he knows about the time. He know the importance of it. He know becuase he can see it, the time - the future.   
  
What I also don't like about him, is his fucking expensive suits and cocky attitude. He's that typical 'mr-know-it-all' type, of that kind that only live to knock down everyone else and tap himself on the head for a job well done.   
  
No, I don't trust him for a secound.   
  
I don't trust anyone.   
  
I don't like people, and people don't like me. So it's mutual in a way. I've lived like that for too long, my little illusion is becoming real. They're so fucking stupid. They don't see what I see. They don't feel my pain. Because they're blind and deaf. And I am mute, so they will never ever know about it.  
  
He's approaching me slowly, staring at me. I don't look up.   
He kneel infront of me and give me a condescending look. He smirks at me and pull my face upwards with his thumb. He force me to look at him, but I stare right through him. He is not there. He is invisible air to me.  
  
You think you can keep this front up forever... Farfarello? he asks me.   
  
I don't move a muscle. I don't even blink.   
  
He snorts and strokes my cheek gently. Do you really think you can keep shut to me..? I know everything about you Farfarello. I've been watching you for a long   
while. I've seen your time ticking away... he says and get to his feet.   
  
I still don't move.  
  
Suddenly I feel something hit into my stomach. I gasp for air, but it's more of a reflex than of pain. I don't feel it. I only feel the hard sole of his fucking expensive Armani shoe, push into my ribs.   
  
I still don't look at him. That would make me the loser. I might be the inferior already, but I don't mind - as usual. I don't care.  
  
I'm too fucked up to care about anything else.  
  
He smirks at me. That sinister smirk. I'vm starting to hate it. It makes him look so fucking superior. He removes his foot from my stomach and just stands there, staring at me for awhile.   
  
You might fool the nurses and guards with that silence. But you can't fool me. he says and turnes around. He leaves the cell and locks the door.   
  
I hear his footsteps echo in the corridor outside. I listen to them until they die away into nothingness.  
  
I sit there, in the cold darkness. The insects are still there. Still tickeling.   
My one golden eye is opened wide, but I don't look.   
Suddenly a wide smirk is curling up my lips. My body is jerking of withheld laughter.   
  
The stupd American really think he is fucking god. But that won't make me give in to him. That just gives me one more reason to continue my little game.  
  
***  
  
/...Our Father, which art in heaven.../  
  
I wake up with a twitch. It's hard to tell if it's really night or not since my cell is always dark. My golden eye look around, scaning the area. But no one is there.  
  
/...hollowed by Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done.../  
  
I twitch again. These whispers, where does it come from? Am I hallucinating again?   
Suddenly I hear footsteps. They echo outside the corridor, in perfect rhythm to the pulsating words in my head.  
The words of God...  
  
/...on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us.../  
  
I sit there and listen to the silent prayer for god. It is not for me. But who is it?   
Who's the fucker that is messing with me?   
  
I bit into my lower lip. I don't want to hear. I hate god, I hate his fucking promises about justice and glory. I don't want his preaches.   
  
Suddenly, the footsteps stop and I can sense someone is outside the door to my cell. I can see a slim shadow in the light from the slight slot under the door.   
  
...und führe uns nicht in Versuchung, sondern erlöse uns von dem Bösen... a voice pierce through the silence in irreproachable German.   
  
The same voice that just a minute ago was preaching for me in my head.   
I hate to admit I am actually curious in who this person might be.   
  
The door to my cell opens slowly, and a slight beam of light spread over the cold floor. I look up to face the man standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe in a graceful appeariance.  
  
His long red, wild hair is held back from his brilliant jade green eyes by a yellow bandana.   
He is tall and his body is slender. His long legs and catlike movements gives him a sensual yet self-confident grace.   
  
I don't trust him, whoever he is. He smells of guilt and sin which of course isn't the reason, but he seems far too... 'complicated' to be trusted.   
  
But yet again...trust no one...  
  
A wide grin strikes his lips and his eyes glimmer in the darkness of my cell.   
So this is the little lamb of god... he says. I frown at him. I feel the hatered flow in my body.   
  
I am not god's lamb.   
  
I will not accept an insult like that.   
  
I glare at him with my one so golden eye fixed on him. He snorts at me and walks inside. He shouldn't be so fucking proud.   
They call me crazy, I can kill him. I can rip up his throat with my teeth. The call me mad for a reason. I don't stop when I reach the edge.   
  
I can go on forever.   
I can slice him into pieces and drink his blood. Because I am insane, I don't see what is actually happening. I live in my own little imaginary world. I don't see their pretty reality.  
  
He chuckle suddenly and shakes his head slowly.  
You fucked up shit. he says and grin at me.   
  
I don't get the joke.   
  
I am dead serious. He should take me seriously if he value his life a little higher.   
He shakes his head again and walkes over to me. As always, I sit completly still and silent as the kind and good little madman I am.  
  
He gives me one of those curious looks and scan me from top to toe, not that I'm standing, but anyway.   
  
He's literaly exploring me.   
  
I don't understand how, but somehow the idoit thinks he's got the guts to let me out of the straightjacket because suddenly he is unbuckling the big buckles and take it off me. I stare at him in amasement.   
  
He's smirking at me.  
  
Fucking arrogant bastard. You think you can stay alive for five minutes with that attitude against me? I'm not god's child. I will not spare you when you cry out for your mother to save you.  
  
But he takes the other tactic...  
  
You would probably not. And I don't have a mother. he says and fix me with his eyes. I blink at him.  
  
At first I don't get it. But what do you excpect. How the fuck do you come to the conclusion that someone has just read you fucking mind?!  
  
No, I certainly do not, in any way, trust this man.  
  
He grin at me again. I am starting to hate that selfcomplacent smirk that seems to be glued to his face.   
You're surprised? he rise an eyebrow. He says it more in condescending than as a question. I still stare at him, my eye glistening of hatered towards him. He is slowly but surely going on my nerves.  
  
What did you expect. You've already met that stick up his ass pre-cog Crawford, haven't you? he says and tilt his head.  
  
I don't react. I think he's getting bored in my company. I don't mind. I like the lonelyness.   
He gives me a bored look. You don't say very much. Brad told me you were mute, but since your mind is so full of withheld oppinions I doubt he's right. he says.  
  
True, true. Maybe this little slut has a brain after all. Maybe he can actually think for himself too and not only intrude in others minds. What a comforting thought.  
  
I might like him.   
  
I might like killing him in a very brutal but surely very well done way. I lick my pale lips at the thought. I like to kill. Killing hurts god the most of all.   
God is crying when I kill. He's aching of pain when I rip out the hearts of his children.   
  
I want him to cry. I want him to suffer, like I do.   
  
I want my revenge on him, and I will have it.  
  
Of course you will. the redhead is standing up suddenly. I look at him. So he reads minds huh? How sweet. I wonder if their sinful thoughts make god cry. I wonder what he hears.   
  
But I will probably never know.  
  
I twiddle my fingers slowly. How nice. I can feel the cold air brush over my skin. I'm not used being free to move my body however I want.   
For the last four or five years I have been wearing a straightjacket as central cloth. I've wore it by night and by day for as long as I can remeber. And suddenly, this fucker just walks inside and rip it off me.   
  
I must say I am impressed.   
  
At the asylum, they would never do such a thing. No one - not even the strongest and most muscular guard would dare touching me in any way. Yet I can't remember how the hell they got it on me. It's strange how humans can scare each other so much.   
  
The redhead walks slowly over to the door again, he moves silently with the same flexibility as a cat. I realise that I am actually watching him. But he is attractive somehow. He is interesting.   
  
His pretty appeariance is yearning for attention, which can't be his biggest loss in life, minding his rather perfect features and body.   
He turnes around and gives me one last look. I think you'll be alright here... Jei. he says and fire the very same selfcomplacent smirk as before.   
  
He chuckle softly, and with that he leaves me alone in the darkness.   
  
I stare at the closed door. I am stunned. I can't move. I hold my breath and swallow.  
How dare he. He is obviously asking for it. Like it's written all over him.   
  
How dare he use that name towards me.   
  
Jei is dead. There is no Jei.   
  
Jei is a fucking coward who failed too many times to be forgiven ever again. Jei did not deserve to live. He is dead, gone, finished with life itself. And I killed him. I choked him in his own sins. I raped his soul and I cut his heart into pieces.  
There is no fucking Jei! Don't call me Jei!  
  
I am breathing heavily. I blink, and suddenly a tear trickle down my cheek. I don't know why. I don't feel anything. Just... empty.  
As I am, empty. Empty and lonely. Sweapt into the darkness. Surrounded by sin and guilt. I shake my head slowly.   
  
He won't have me this time. Now I am strong. I'm not like Jei. I can keep my feet on the ground. I am tollerante. I can make it. I can pass the pointer on the clock dial. I can win against time. I will catch up with it before it knocks me down.   
  
I can and I will.  
  
I won't fail for him. I'll show him who I really am. I'll show him the fucking truth.  
The truth about him. That there is no god. There is no paradise. There's just fucking silence. Just the fucking nothingness everywhere.   
  
Emptyness.  
  
I'll show him fucking reality...  
  
  



	3. Part III

  
  
Part III  
  
***  
  
  
There is few things that really irritates me. I can usualy just disconnect it or ignore it. But I have to say, that after one week with that redheaded German slut, I've changed my opinion. I realise now that I haven't known the true meaning of the word 'annoying' until now.   
  
The little fucker seems to have some secret 'annoying-top-10-list' well hidden somewhere around, 'cause he's doing it all the way to the victory. He's driving me 'slightly mad'.  
  
He just entered my list. Congratulations Schuldig. Well done.  
  
I don't think I will last one more day here. I hate this place, whatever it is. I only feel safe in my dark, cold cell where I am totaly alone with myself. That's what I want to believe at least. But with an interfering telepath in the same building you can never be safe.  
  
After my first meeting with the German - who calls himself Schuldig, which is, by the way a perfectly fitting name - I still thought that maybe, I had a chanse after all.   
A chanse to flee. A chanse to finally get my revenge on god.  
  
But I realise now how naive I've been.  
  
I am stuck here. I'm locked up into a tiny little cell with no windows and no furniture.   
I live with an American, Brad Crawford, who seems to be one of that kind you merely know and still your only relation is the word: 'enemy, enemy, enemy'.   
  
The other person also living here is, as already told above, the sluttish German Schuldig. A telepath who seems to have the same fucking self-confident grin glued to his face, everytime I see him.  
  
He's been visiting me quite often lately. I've been here for one week now. And I must say, I start to get the picture, even though no one has really explained anything to me. Neither what the heck I'm doing here nor my part of the play.  
  
I'm just... here, to be here. And to be honest, I think I'd prefer going back to that boring asylum rather than staying here.   
  
They said that I would kill for them. They promised that I would be able to kill. But I haven't even as much as touched a blade since I came here. I haven't hold a knife in my hand for so long, I miss that lovely feeling. Sharp, thin blade, brushing over my skin, caressing my pale body with scars.   
  
So cold and pure, the blood colouring my skin into crimson red. I bleed for god. I bleed to assure my excistance.   
  
I bleed only to know I'm alive. Because it's his tears I bleed.  
  
I realise now that the fuckers back at the asylum had it their way for a while. They made me stop believing. They knew people like me, blaming others for their own sins.   
  
But I tell them.   
  
They can never have it their way, because they're all to fucked up to ever understand that they're already lost because god was having his way!   
They can never go back and try and live another life. Because god made no other life, for the failures and the sinners. Because we're all sinners. We're all a bunch of losers.  
  
I snort at the pathetic so called 'creation of god'. What the fuck did he do? He doesn't own the world. He doesn't own humanity or the universe. He must be laughing his ass of right now, because of humanity's naive way of thinking.   
  
Humanity's desperate belief.  
  
Stupid, stupid, stupid humans! Blame yourself and no one else for your stupidity and deafness.  
  
Ops, time to shut up. Someone's coming.   
  
The door opens slowly. I watch it intesly. Someone's coming for a visit, how nice, I wonder who it might be.   
  
It's 'mr Cream Suit'. Nice. At least he'll leave my mind alone. I breath out deeply and stare at the smirking American lazily.  
How are you doing Farfarello? Still mute? he smirks at his own little personal joke.  
  
The guy has a seriously sick sense of humour. I'd like to spare him just so that god could cry for his bad jokes and stern humour.  
I blink boredly as he kneels beside me to unlock the chains around my skinny legs, not that it's necessary.   
  
I mean, what damage could I possibly cause with my legs unchained. Is that really their impression of me.   
  
'Wild-blood-thirsty-psychopath-who'll-kick-your-brains-out-if-not-tied-from-top-to-toe'. How pleasant. They know me by heart already, and we've just met.   
  
He grabbs me by the sleeve of the straightjacket and pull me to my feet. I stare at him with that calm yet insane look that only we lunatics can manage. I must say he looks a bit scared. Poor Bradley, I bet the lazy-ass German is busy up jerking of right now so that mommy Crawford had to go get the psycho-boy instead.   
  
Life's cheap Brad, accept it.  
  
He push me out of the cell and pulls me along through the white corridor.   
  
White, of course. Same fucking, calming white colour as at the asylum. I haven't left my cell even once since I arrived here. I had almost forgot it was actually attached to the rest of the building.   
  
The American stop outside a well locked metall door and gives me a serious look. I fire a wide grin, only because I know he hates it.  
Don't move. he says and pull up some card out of his pocket. He types in a code and put the little card in the doorknob. A silent click pierce through the empty corridor.   
  
I snort ironicly.  
  
I was wrong. There's a whole fucking military base seperating my thiny little cell from the rest of the building.   
  
I feel so welcome. Like they really enjoy my little visit here.   
He frown at me and grabbs me again. I follow him nicely, like a kind little dog. I don't give a fuck about him, I enjoy this little walk. I take my time looking around the different surroundings that sweap past me.  
  
Suddenly we stop. I wake up from my little dream world and look at Crawford. Another locked door.   
He does the card-thingy again and I watch the procedure as he opens the heavy door. He push me inside and close it after him.  
  
It's light inside of there. A long table in the middle of the _white_ room and four old men sitting around it with long rows of available seats left empty. I wonder if I'm supposed to sit down or just stand there as some visible exhibit.  
  
Crawford bow before the men and stands beside me, still gripping the cloth of my straighjacket roughly.  
  
Mr Takatori. This is Farfarello, the third member of Schwarz. he says in that polite, typical American accent way.  
  
I see the later alternative was right. I'm not supposed to do or say anything. Only being scanned and confirmed.   
Not that I had expected anything else. It's just a quite degrading feeling, just standing there, not having any own opinion. Not even having the right to interduce yourself.  
  
The guy in the middle seat lean back and stare at me intensly. I stare back at him, coldly. But not maniacaly, as to Crawford, for this man is certainly different from Crawford. It's not his repellent appeariance, but the hint of power and megalomania in his eyes.   
  
I can smell the many of his sins long way. He's as cold and blood thirsty as the rest of god's many lap dogs. I wonder how his blood taste? It would look so beautiful staining his expensive suit.   
  
Blood is so sweet and pure.  
  
The one who feels no pain... interesting. Interesting indeed. he mumbles. Crawford nodds slowly. Yes mr Takatori. We have not got it confirmed yet, but the test will begin in a few days. Only then, can we tell for sure that it's not just occassional imunity.  
  
Oh really. How nice for you Bradley. And exactly when were you about to tell me about this little 'test' so to call it.  
  
Don't you just feel helpless in times like these. I certainly will not only hate Crawford after this, I will mentaly knock him down and draw all the fucking secret information I want out of his thin little head.   
  
I hear a cynical laughter ring somewhere in the back of my head. I know that laughter by now. After one week with only that laughter echoing in your mind in the darkness you know when to shup up and turn of everything.  
  
Welcome back Schuldig, any new brainstorms since last?  
  
/Jei my favourite Leprechaun, you wanna get rid of good old Bradley, ja?/ I hear his nasal voice pierce through the tangled mess in my mind.  
  
Now this was something new. He might have something interesting to say after all, this time. Even though he used that idiotic nickname that he love teasing me with.  
  
/What do you have in mind?/ comes the question.  
  
He sounds excited. Well, minding the situation.  
Let's see, what does he expect me to answer now. Maybe that I want to rip his throat out and use him as a teddy bear after stuffing his limbs with cotton. Naw, not very much Schuldig's type.  
  
/True, true. I like it more--/  
  
He loves this game. He start a sentence and then he awaits me to finish it for him. Just to confirm how 'bounded' I am to him.  
  
...'protracted and sadistic' is the words he's seeking.  
  
I can see him nodd proudly.  
  
/Awww Jei. You've been doing your homework I see. Good boy. If you wouldn't be so fucked in the head and freaky looking I could almost believe I'd fall for you. But you seriously deserve a gold star./  
  
I hear him laugh, and then the connection fades away. It's such an relieve every time he leaves. While inside of you, he's filling out all the space and absorbing every possible information that's streaming in the endless sea of consciousness.  
  
I inhale the cool air and change the track back to the instant.  
  
I assume a connversation has been going on there, as well as in my head. Crawford has gone silent and the other men seems to have fallen for whatever 'speach of peace' he's been telling them.  
  
I still wonder about that test he was talking about. does it mean I'll finally taste some blood? That I will kill? I really hope so, for I get bored so easily...  
  
  



	4. Part IV

  
  
Part IV  
  
***  
  
  
At present, I'm not in my usual cold and cosy cell.   
I'm in a more hospital like room, in a clean bed, bruised from top to toe.  
  
Crawford's little 'test' appeared to be the most interesting thing that has happened in the last two years, after stabbing a nurse at the asylum with a fork.  
I have really enjoyed myself recently.   
  
You see, when you've been spending half your life in an empty cell that has been the only area you've known for the last eternity, you get a 'slight' desire to get out.  
  
You also, get the most unbearable need to do something - anything. Like chewing on the collar of the straightjacket, cut yourself with a knife, whatever, anything for the attention. Anything to focus on for a while.  
A desire to do something just to assure your existance, like you haven't been for a long, long time.  
  
When you've been locked up in an undescribable small cell, with no windows, no furniture and no light, you go slightly mad.  
  
Just try for yourself if you do not believe me.   
  
No food.  
  
No light.  
  
No warm and cosy bed to sleep in.  
  
No one to talk to.  
  
It's just emty, and the emptyness drive you mad. Because it can't be cured by medecine, only by company. And there is no one there to save you. Because you're the only one.  
  
'One' is a fucking lonely number. I've never liked that number. It sounds so flat and miserable. But I've never known anything else. Just one, one, one...  
  
One, one, one, one, one, one, one.... fucking tragic number. But it's quite logic. You don't have to think about much else.  
Just one, one, one, one, one, one, one... lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely...  
  
Well, just watch me. The perfect result of six years at the asylum.   
The pathetic fuck I am, haven't even known anything else than fucking 'one' in six years!  
It's almost ironic. If I wouldn't be so damn unable to I'd probably laugh.  
  
As I said, I've been carrying out 'mr Cream Suit's' little 'test'.  
I must say, it was fun. Oh yes it was very, very fun. I haven't had that much fun in a very long time.  
  
I hope there's more tests waiting for me when I get out of here.  
The whole meaning of the little game was to assure my 'imunity' to pain.  
And the best thing about it is that, after so many years of the loss, desperate waiting, and unsatisfied desire, I could hurt him. I got a chance to hurt him - the laughing bastard in the sky.  
  
I finally got to bleed for him, ease my pain and spit him in the face.  
  
I wonder if Crawford got prove enough out of it? I hope not, that must mean more killing, right? More tests, more knives.  
I think I'm starting to enjoy this, if only a little.  
  
As long as I'll be able to do something, most likely kill - I will not complain. I'll be their nice little 'imune-to-pain' doll as long as they feed me right.  
  
I love the way they watched me. Their wide open eyes glistening of fear. So pure and innocent. So lovely.   
  
They actuallt feared me. The looked at me and saw the coldblooded berserker haunting them asleep. I'm proud of them, they gave just made my day and I want to thank them.  
  
And I want more.  
  
I need it.  
  
The slightest scent of blood and I'll go berserk again. Crawford knows that already. He knew it all along. I don't think he was ever doubting me. He's the very same himself. He can see the future, his colleague is a mind reader, why wouldn't I be unable to feel pain?   
  
Somehow, it's pathetic.  
  
Why should we work for that Takatori guy if all he's got is money? Who needs money if they got the ability to see the future? Read the concealed ace in your sleeve?  
  
It's one of the many things I still haven't figured out about this whole thing.  
  
I stare up into the high, white celing and breath out slightly. What a maredream really. No time, no noise, no insects, no rules, no god, no people, no talkings, nothing. Just empty.  
I long for the day the hourglass' has reached it's very last grain of sand. The day I pass time, I'll never be a step behind again.   
  
It's strange, I should be scared.   
  
I should be fucking panicing.  
  
But I am calm, I'm just waiting. Inhaling the cold air and waiting. For there's no other way to beat it. There's no other way to reach it.  
  



	5. Part V

  
  
Part V  
  
***  
  
  
They're pointing at me. They are all laughing. Because I'm the failure.  
  
The sinner.  
  
Long, skinny fingers stretching out in the darkness, shining white skin, pointing at me - the madman in the corner.  
  
Am I dreaming? I can not tell anymore. My reality is no different from my dreams. My bitter reality. The painful truth.  
  
-Do I care?-  
  
I don't think I do. No. Because they are stupid.   
  
Stupid, stuffed dolls of god, who doesn't understand. God is no martyr. All this nagging about the miracles and suffering, do you really belive in that trash?!   
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid humans!  
  
Do you trust the bible more than yourself, your own mind?   
  
The bible is not logic, it makes no sense at all. It could be the fucking same just reading some science fiction literature. It would be of the very same kind.   
  
It's been ticking for a while now. I think someone turned of the time so that I wouldn't get mad. But they are yet so wrong. Everyone, they are stupid.  
I'm not insane, I am fully capamble of taking care of myself. I am as sane as everyone else at this place, not to mention that telepath.  
  
Speak of the devil. Well, he's here, as always. He likes to read my mind, and therefor he does it often.   
  
It affects me in a very strange yet pleasant way.   
  
You see, when someone else takes over your mind, you're not free to think or in any way capable of doing anything at your own will. He's your reaper, and he is the one to choose what to think or not, rather you'll move, listen, or speak etc etc.  
  
I'm his puppet, I know that, and he's my puppetmaster. He pulls my strings however he want to and there is not one little thing I can do about it.  
  
Isn't it ironic?  
  
Fucking ironic to me. But what do I care. I don't give a damn about what sick lies and truths he finds up there in my head. I don't care however deep he's digging, and he knows that too. That's what he finds so amusing. He keep on searching for my sore spot.   
  
But let me tell you this Schuldig. You can't fool me darling. Because a madman's mind is not supposed to make any sense. And however well done your homework is, my mind is different from all the others. I promise you.   
  
Do you know why?  
  
As the fucked up shit I am, I don't care. I don't give a damn about your mind games or brainstorms. I don't care if you use me as a puppet.   
I suppose I should, but who said I'm a regular human. I don't do 'the usual' trash like sleep in a bed, eat breakfast with my friends and family, go to work, whatever.   
  
-Because I don't care?-  
  
Even so, he's the only one that I've uttered a word to. Because he simply made me do it. I don't say I like it, but let me tell you this.  
  
Except the dizzyness, the sudden tiredness that hits you, the stinging in your eye and the pulsating pounders in your limbs, I enjoy it, because it gives me something else to focus on.  
  
As I told you before. When you've been alone for an eternity, in the darkness, and you know nothing else, you need something else to focus on, something better than the bitter reality. You need to flee to your own little imaginary world.   
  
Schuldig's 'small' mind games brings me there. Because when he enters my mind, and take over it, I do no longer have the responsibility for myself, I can just breath out deeply and lean back. I don't have to think about anything.  
  
I don't have to face the tragic truth.  
  
The darkness. I don't have to count the secounds of the ticking time. I don't have to listen. Just keep shut.  
  
But tonight, I am totaly alone. I have to keep my twisted mind for myself tonight.  
But they're here.  
  
Trust them to always be here when I need them the least. Scolding me, pointing at me and spitting me in the face.  
  
Mother.   
  
Or should I even call you mother? You can't possibly be counted as one after what you've done to your dear son, can you?   
  
You betrayed me! What did I ever do to you! I was so loyal to you, I was your puppet all along, wasn't I? I wanted to learn eveything from you. I just wanted you to love me, take care of me. But you didn't give a fuck from the very start, did you?   
You fucked up bitch!   
  
I'll never ever feel regret for what I did. Never! I don't feel any sorrow for the loss of you and your meaningless preachers.   
Don't you see what you turned me into? Your pathetic preachers about god was all a tragic waste of time you see, because you if anyone, made me realise that there is no fucking god!   
  
There is no shepherd to forgive us our trespasses.   
  
It was all just lies.  
  
Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies.....  
  
Always! You were always lying to me and everyone. But I believed in you. I knew nothing else. And you betrayed me. You gave me nothing to believe in.   
The lies, the words you said, I'll never be able to forget it.  
  
As long as I live.  
  
I have nothing to thank you for anymore. You gave me nothing. And you gave me everything. And for that, I hate you to death and you deserve it. You deserved my revenge.  
  
I killed my family. No no, wait. I didn't kill my family. Jei did.   
  
So what. What were they to me, a cheap trick. A bunch of dolls in the perfect front of the happy family.   
  
Fucking sick game of god. As always, the one to blame. Call me unfair and cruel, but what do I mind. Like I've ever cared what anyone ever called me.   
  
Jei did. But Jei is dead. Too bad.  
  
He can never utter his wordless oppinions ever again. Because I ran my blade over his body and poked out his eye.  
Jei is dead, and I, Farfarello, his murdered and reaper, am mute and deaf and I will never ever speak ever again.  
  
He couldn't escape me. Because I've already disclosed your lies, and your false words. There is no freedom, there is no justice or any fucking glory.   
  
There is no fucking god!! And when you die you will understand that you will never be saved! You will understand that there is no heaven, and that you will all die alone.   
  
Totaly, fucking alone. And you're not going to paradies, you fuckers. You'll spend your awaiting eternity in a deep hole in the ground, dirty, dirty, dirty. And so deep and dark that you'll never be able to rise again.  
  
It's time to face reality sweeties, you can't live in the illusion forever.  
  
I'll give it to you mother, I will have my revenge on god. And you'll pay the price as the cheap whore who played the perfect role as the innocent one.   
  
You disgust me.  
  
You just wait and I'll come for you one of these days. I'm not finished with you yet. You can just watch me come around and I'll be waiting for the right moment, when you least expect it. I promise you, one of the very few promises that I have ever known.  
  
You will have the truth. You will have all the dirty lies spit back in your ugly face.  
I promise you, I'll give it to you.  
  
I hear his nasal laughter ring in my head as I slowly fade into darkness. He's leaving my mind to rest, finally. I pass out on the cold floor.  
The darkness surround me. The lies, the eternal coat of lies is laying over me.   
  
Sweapt around me like a quilt, keeping me warm in the freezing cold. I hear the secounds starting to tick again. The pale fingers still pointing at me, the big holes in their heads, without eyes are staring at me blankly.   
  
Fucking Schuldig. Playing with me and mess with my mind so I can no longer discern reality. I can't tell lies from truth anymore. But it's not only because of him.  
  
I wish the nightmares would go away.   
  



	6. Part VI

  
  
Part VI  
  
***  
  
  
As soon as I wake up, I know this is going to be a good day. The cell is dark as always and my body's shivering because of the cold. Why would they waste electicity and money on me and my unknown little cell?   
  
I manage to sit up after a lot of struggeling in the tight straighjacket. What can I do, the only thing they expect from you, is to sit down nicely and wait for someone to come and let you out.  
Of course it doesn't happen very often in a place like this, since they made my cell as invisible as possible to avoid uninvited visitors from being sliced up.   
  
But a little now and then some pitiful guard get some compassion for me and feels like feeding me or something. Big mistake, they usualy end up leaving my cell with some fingers less or an eye missing.   
  
Crawford have forbidden the guards to let me out unless he doesn't order them to. He's been so fucking ambitious that he has put up dussins of instructions and rules how to 'handle' me.  
  
What am I to him, some fucking animal! Fucker, I'll give him some fucking good   
reasons for putting up my instructions.  
  
I would cover the walls in here with pretty words, dedicated to him. There's so many of them. I use to sitt down on my boring days, thinking about all those nice things like killing him in a very dramatic way to make him suffer.   
  
Just the though of it makes me smile. I wonder if Schuldig would give me a hand. Well, probably not, at least not before he has fucked him first.  
  
I shake my head slowly. It's too tragic. Why would Schuldig pay his biggest interest in fucking some stick up his ass like Crawford. What a pathetic interest.   
  
I mean, just look at the guy - Bradley Crawford. What a whimp. The only thing that gives him a name is that expensive Armani suit and that stern face. Sometimes, most likely Sunday, you might even get a glimpse of that self confident smirk if you're lucky.   
  
Then you know, the kind of arrogant bastard he is.  
Still, that is the best and probably only reason, why the redhead actually should fuck his brain out.  
  
Allow me to laugh, but Schuldig has described it himself like, Crawford is actually a very interesting fuck.   
He's the kind that never let you on to close, that takes a step back as fast as you approach him. But that is not because he's scared. No no, good old Bradly is not scared, or maybe he is, but not of Schuldig.   
  
The fucker is backing of because he knows him, because he knows that if he gets involved with _him_ he won't be able to keep that little attitude up anymore. His very own little theatre curtain would fall.  
  
And that is his exact reason to do it. You couldn't agree more, could you?   
That stupid American think he's so fucking superior and all mighty. Well, in that case I just say, go for it Schuldig! If you're so convinced that one fuck could make any difference, I'm fucking counting on you.   
  
But one of these days, I'll show my precious little 'mr Cream Suit', in my own little favourite way that I actually do best, that he is nothing more than a pathetic little pawn to me.  
  
I don't know why the redhead set these little games of his own. Probably because he's bored, which is actually a true reason. We're all bored to hell.  
  
But today, I know that something is happening. I remember now. Yesterday Schuldig said something about 'dinner is served tomorrow'. It sounded very interesting I must say, and I have to admit that I had quite a hard time sleeping tonight because of the excitement. Fucking pathetic.   
  
Something is finally happening! It doesn't really matter what it is anymore, it could rather just be some squirrels fucking in the bushes, it would still be the most interesting thing that has happened here for the last six months or so.   
  
Whatever it is, we're all so desperate we sit here waiting for days, counting the hours.  
And now, the bastard just comes inside saying 'dinner is served' and believe me to just watch him walk out of the door again without getting the slightest curious.  
  
Guten Morgen mein kleine Leprechaun. Slept well? a well known voice is ringing in my ears suddenly.  
  
I look up. Jade green eyes glimmering at me in the darkness.  
I do not answer. I have no reason to have a conversation with him. He loves mocking me, that's all. He doesn't expect me to answer, and I don't.  
  
He fire the very same well known smirk and enters the cell without hesitation like Crawford or the guards. He knows that I knows that I can't hurt him because he'd know it before I had even moved.   
  
Clever eh?  
  
Fucking sick is what it is. It sucks living together with a telepath I tell you. But I've figured out, the truth is that, it sucks even more for him. Oh, and he deserve it the most too!  
  
He walks over to me and free me from my little prision of cloth. I stretch out my arms and my legs. Ahhh, I just love this nice little moment of being freed from that ugly straighjacket. It's been rather annoying lately and it's itching too.  
  
Schuldig throws me a shirt and watch me as I put it on.   
We've had closer contact than that so I just ignore him as I get fully dressed.  
  
Remember the dinner I promised you? he says and leads me out of the cell as I am finished. I merely nodd, why should I care to answer when he has already read my mind.   
He knew the answer before even asking the question, he just wanna spare me some precious time. But the answer he gives me makes me listen with the biggest interest.  
  
Well, he's coming right up.   
  
What does that mean. He's gonna let me play? Will I get a knife? Will they let me go berserk on the guards again like last time, when Crawford wanted to test me, he haven't ever since. I think he pretty much believe my skill now.  
  
Schuldig grabbs the short sleeved top that I'm wearing and turns me to the left. The exit. I can't believe my eyes.   
Holy fucking shit! He's gotta be kidding me.  
  
Stupid German, he's gonna let me out!  
  
I mean out, _out_ of the building!   
  
Don't call me stupid, psycho boy! he snaps at me as he push me out through the entrance.   
  
The sun is shining outside, yet very coldly since it's early in the morning and no one's out at this time. But it's light! I had quite accepted the fact that I might have gone blind on both my eyes after spending another lightless half year in that dark cell.  
  
Schuldig pulls me down on the seat of the waiting limo, outside the building, then closes the door and a minute later he's sitting beside me on the other side, examin me as usual. Dah, Acceptable. he says and sighs deeply.  
  
I suppose Crawford asked him to dress me in 'normal' clothes since we seems to be going outside today.   
The car pulls away and I look out of the window. I like watching things. Just quietly, watching, studying.  
  
Schuldig is restless, I can feel his bored energy fill up all the space of the car. An ironic grin curl up my lips.   
  
/No 'fucking Crawford' this week either.../ I mock him mentaly. Personal little joke. The German chuckle slightly and looks away. I didn't knew you had that sense of humour Jei. he says and light a cigarette.   
  
He's still calling me Jei sometimes. Bastard. How can I make it more clear to him than breaking his jaw a month ago. It's not easily done while in a straightjacket on, but at least I got to have some fun.   
  
I don't really care about it anymore. I had my fun causing him those bruises and he's having his keeping calling me it. What a perfect match, him and me. Just fucking perfect.  
  
/Someone tought me.../  
  
I think about it. Fucking sick how that bastard made more progress in making me communicate in a few days only by forcing my mind to answer, than Crawford has and still hasn't even now. I'm not one to break the silence but I'm too excited today to keep a lower profile.  
  
Schuldig chuckle again and take another drag of the cigarette. We're going to meet the last member of Schwarz. I though it would excite you enough if I say that you'll be able to use these... he pauses and opens a small box under his seat.   
I stare at him and grabbs the box.  
  
Glittering, silver blades shine at me and I feel a shiver run over my body. Precious sharp, little demons. I picks one of them up and study it closely.  
  
Schuldig watch me in disgust as I let my toungue run over the sharp blade.   
  
Sharp enough? he asks me as he rise an eyebrow at my bleeding lips.  
I smirk at him and put the knife down in the box again.   
  
/Sharp enough to cut your pretty little face into pieces, yes.../ I grin at him as I think about it. Precious pale skin, being stained with the pure liquid in the same colour as his crimson hair. So fucking sweet.   
  
So, there's a fourth memeber of Schwarz. How interesting. Who could this last little one be. But I can't focus on such cheap information for the moment.   
  
The most important thing right now is that I have a fucking whole box of clean, glistening blades in my hands and that there will probably be a lot of blood to stain them with.   
  
I lick my pale lips slowly.   
  
This will be intersting... interesting indeed.   
  



	7. Part VII

  
  
Part VII  
  
***  
  
  
One... two... three... four, white, identical walls...  
  
Four walls, a celing, a floor... all white.   
  
It's just a room, a small, small room. Four small walls, a small, high celing. High, high celing... white celing...  
  
White... the walls are all white... white as the celing, white as the floor. White as the same white walls. The white celing, the white walls, the white, white floor.   
  
Even me is fucking white!  
  
Back again... in the cell... yet not my usual cell. Another cell. Another white celing to stare up into.   
  
I look around me.  
  
This isn't a room. This isn't part of another building and it's certainly not counted as a 'room' in the first place. It's not big at all. Just in my imagination. This fucking white color makes it big. It seems big because there's only one color in here. One color to make it look bigger.  
  
The very same white color mixed together with the walls and the floor, the celing. I could just imagine the heaven outside of here. Big fluffy, white clouds. Wide, wide heaven.   
  
Blue, blue, blue... I'd even settle for a gray heaven today, just not fucking white!  
  
  
_They say I'm crazy... they say I'm strange... to tell by their looks, by the look in their faces, I guess they're right.   
  
The say I'm a goner, that I will never return. They say I'm crazy... they say I'm strange... they think they controle me, they think I don't care.   
  
To tell by their looks, by the look in their faces. I guess they're right. I'm nothing to hold on to. I'm no one to care for. Another maniac. Another twisted face.   
  
They think I'm all right with it. They think I don't care...  
  
Will they ever understand..?  
  
... Kiss me, kiss me, kill me..._  
  
  
How long have I been here? Another week, another month maybe? I've lost count on time, I once knew as my mortal enemy. The time to end everything. All that once existed, the time that god created together with this miserable crowd called humanity.  
  
I only know one... one is for too long.   
  
I've been here long enough not to remember. The same white room, the same identical white. I don't see myself anymore. A white spot in a white room. Restrained in a white straightjacket.   
  
Unmoving because of the straps around my legs. I don't need to move. If I don't move, my body will go numb and I won't have to feel it anymore.  
  
One less thing to care about... fine with me. As long as I don't know I exist I don't have to act like I think I do either. What a nice thought.  
  
One little step in the wrong direction and he takes over again. One little notice and I'll lose controle. Isn't that so? When I can't concentrate, when I can't count it. It'll catch up with me and get me in time to break through.  
  
I remember it. One locked door. A big door. A vault door, guarded by five or six guards. Six, big men guarding _one _closed door. All of them armed from top to toe. All of them guarding _one boy._ All of them scarred to death of _one boy_ and _one door_ that could be opened anytime.  
  
_  
They say he's crazy... they say he's strange..._  
  
  
They say he's telekinetic.   
  
Not one day onlder than fifteen and already so very wise of the big bad world we live in. Reminds me of myself. Though I can't say I feel pitty for him, because I don't.  
  
Life's cheap my dear, accept it...  
  
I think I killed them. I must have, or else they wouldn't have put me here. I think I hurt god that night. I think I hurt him bad... I hope I did.  
  
A wide smirk curl up my lips.   
  
So now we're four. Four braindead assholes at one and the same spot of the earth.   
  
Four lost souls trying to forgett...  
  
Four forgotten people who're desperatly searching for confirmation in their own personal ways.   
  
Four victims who'll never ever be saved.   
  
And I'm neither more nor less part of it than anyone else...  
  
'Schwarz'... that's what they call us. Schwarz is the pitch black color of the night. I like that color, just too far from fucking white.   
  
Schwarz... it has a melody to it. Like, the melody of evil. Death. That is two words I know very well, and also Schwarz. I wonder if we were Schwarz even before this kid came up.   
  
Let me interduce him to you. It's very simple. You see, this fourth member isn't very special. His name is Nagi Naoe and he doesn't make much of a thing about himself. He's just... there. A shadow in the corner. Just there to be there, but not really present.   
  
They say he can move things without touching them. Don't know what that's good for really, but that's his little 'artistic tallent'. At least I'm happy he'll leave my head alone to rest peacfully.  
  
I think I hear someone outside. Let me guess. Light, quick footsteps. Echoing in perfect rythm in perfect time.  
  
Perfect is annoying and boring.   
  
Boring is Crawford...  
  
The door opens and I have just won a free trip to Hawaii, for who isn't there but our all time favorite asshole Bradly Crawford.  
  
You seem to enjoy your little visits to this room, don't you Farfarello? he spats.  
  
Ohhh, mr creamsuit is in a bad mood today. That should mean a certain annoying German is in his best mood today.   
  
Interesting thing... opposites.  
  
Of course I don't answer his no sense question and give him a bored look and a twisted smile just to show my appreciation for his short visits and also to give him my contribution for his 'make me angrier' contest.  
  
Suddenly another person show up beside him in the doorway. The kid. Dressed in a typical blue school uniform looking kind of bored.   
  
Fucking sweet.  
  
The two of them. Fucking boring and perfect. It makes me feel sick. Dah I think Schuldig has a reval if he still wants that fuck with Crawford.  
  
Ugh, makes me feel even sicker. Why doeas god make me suffer through this.  
This is Nagi. I assume you never got to meet him the last time because of your behavior. You'll get to know each other better later, now you're coming with me.  
  
The kid doesn't look at me. I wonder if I'm kind of hard to discern in this mixed white color everywhere.  
Well sorry pal, but this is my natural hair color and Irish people aren't the sunniest people in the world. But I don't mind you painting over this ugly white color with some nice red maybe and then please come again and maybe you might notice me then.  
  
I give him my best 'know-your-place-freak' look just in case he'll look up. He does and if that wasn't 'love at first sight' I don't know what is.  
  
I just can't hold back that maniac grin.  
  
What a happy family. Schwarz, the four lovable psychics. We'll make such good friends.  
  



End file.
